


Vive le Péché

by bonaparticipated



Category: French Revolution RPF, Napoleonic Era RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crack, M/M, Strippers & Strip Clubs, This Is STUPID
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6816472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonaparticipated/pseuds/bonaparticipated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon Bonaparte works at Thomas Jefferson's stripclub, and falls for his coworker Arthur Wellesley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Napoleon strutted backstage and flopped into his favorite chair. He was exhausted from all the dancing he was doing moments before, which were even more difficult due to the red high heels that were part of his costume. 

Saint-Just, who was returning from his performance, sat down in the chair next to Napoleon.

"Great job out there, Jasmine," Said Saint-Just. 

Napoleon nodded in acknowledgement, "You too, killer queen,"

Napoleon, also known as Jasmine, stared in the mirror that he'd been staring at for the past three years. He chugged some lemon tea from his water bottle. The ice cold fluid restored at least a little bit of his energy, and he set the bottle down in its usual spot, which was by his framed photo of Josephine. Oh boy he sure did miss her. 

Josephine was his wife, until she passed away a couple years ago. Napoleon sighed and tried to distract himself from the painful memories. Then he remembered.... Arthur was performing tonight! 

He stood up immediately.

"You're gonna watch Tea-anna dance? How typical," Saint-Just teased, while applying another layer of black eyeliner above his lashes.

"At least I don't beg my clients to bring their nerdy friends with them," Napoleon sneered. 

Saint-Just decided to keep his mouth shut after that. He didn't want Napoleon telling everyone else about his crush on Maximilien Robespierre, a boy who had visited a couple weeks ago. Max was on a dare from Camille and Georges, who visited the club quite frequently. Maxime hadn't shown up since, but that didn't stop Saint-Just from trying to seek him out.

Saint-Just watched Napoleon remove his ruby heels and sprint over to the curtain. Napoleon gazed at Wellesley, who was wearing those fishnet stockings he looked so great in.

Napoleon sighed. There was something about Wellington that always captivated him. Was it his handsome side burns that Napoleon admired? Or his tendency to look good in almost anything? Napoleon decided to drop that chain of thought and just watch the man dance. 

Arthur was incredibly graceful. The way he rolled his hips and climbed the pole always seemed to grab the audiences attention. A man with glasses sitting in the front row pelted Wellesley with several 100 dollar bills. Napoleon wondered why that person was here, because he was pretty sure that man was straight. Napoleon wouldn't question it though. Ben Franklin was a wild old man, who's done a lot of crazy things throughout the years.

Arthur grinned as the money landed at his feet. He wrapped his leg around the silver pole and swirled to near the ground, where he planted his feet to slide right back up. Arthur briefly glanced at the curtain, which was the moment when Napoleon decided to retreat back to his mirror and chair. 

Napoleon sat down as quick as possible, and his his face in is hands.  
Why did he have a crush on that ridiculous British man?

"Don't you tell anyone about that," Napoleon muttered loud enough for Saint-Just to hear.

"Your secret's safe with me," Saint-Just replied.


	2. Chapter 2

Napoleon was headed to the nearest bus stop, which was about a five minute walk. Usually, he and his friend Joachim would carpool since they both lived in the same area. But "Lil' Baby Gold" had a special client tonight, and Napoleon was left to his own devices.

The snowflakes danced from the clear dark sky, and gracefully landed on Napoleon's dark eyelashes. His footsteps were silenced from the thin layer of tightly packed snow. All that could be heard were the heavy breaths of this lonely man. He reached his destination, and sat down next to another man, who would soon be a passenger on the bus they awaited. 

Napoleon glanced at the fellow sitting next to him. They had a boyish appearance, with short brown curly hair that complimented the shape of his face. He wore a faded sweater that was similar in color to his hair. In short he was small, effeminate, and looked quite tired. 

"What's a young man like you doing out this late?" Napoleon asked, attempting to spark a conversation with this adorable lad. 

"I was at a party, even though I didn't really want to go," The man answered very quietly, "what's your name, sir?"

"Napoleon. Napoleon Bonaparte," Napoleon turned to shake hands with his new friend, "and you?"

"I'm Gerard. But you can call me Duroc," he responded, and weakly shook Napoleon's hand. 

In the nick of time, the bus's headlights appeared through the flurry of snow. The heavy vehicle slowly rolled up to the bus stop, and screeched to a halt. The noisy doors squeaked open. Duroc and Napoleon boarded the bus together, cautious of the slippery steps that paved the way. 

"Wanna sit next to me?" Asked Duroc as he payed for his ride 

"Of course!" Said Napoleon, "I'll go get us some window seats." 

Napoleon rushed over to his favorite spot, and reserved a seat for his new companion. Although they were the only two passengers on the bus, he felt it necessary. 

The bus began to move again. Duroc trotted over to Napoleon and sat down next to him.

"So what were you doing out and about at such an hour?" Duroc questioned.

Napoleon smiled, "I work at Thomas Jeffersons strip club, so our hours are pretty late."

"Vive le Péché?" 

"Yeah! That's the place." 

Duroc grinned, "My friend Lannes visits there a lot! Do you know him?" 

Napoleon nodded, "He's a close friend of mine actually." 

"He's told me a lot of great things about the place," Duroc explained. "He really enjoys visiting." 

"Maybe you should go with him sometime," Napoleon suggested.

Duroc hesitated, "I don't know... My girlfriend...." 

Of course. There was always a catch. Just as Napoleon saw him self distracted from Arthur, his distraction turned out to likely be straight. Napoleon zoomed out for several minutes.

"....but I don't know.... You seem cool though! I'll give you my number!" Duroc exclaimed. 

His number! Napoleon couldn't help but feel joyful. Duroc pulled a wrinkled napkin out of his pocket and scribbled down his contact information. 

"Text me tomorrow. I've gotta get to sleep as soon as possible," he said, handing Napoleon the napkin. 

Napoleon accepted it without hesitation, "will do!" 

The bus jolted and came to a stop. A voice came over the intercom, "Ajaccio street, stopping for Ajaccio street," 

"I've got to get off now," Napoleon said, while collecting his possessions, "I'll talk to you later!"


	3. Chapter 3

The next day Duroc awoke to the usual sound of his cellphone alarm clock. It was already the 8th time he hit the snooze button, and it was almost 10 already. Duroc yawned, stretched out a bit, and finally got out of bed.

He picked up his phone to turn off his alarm, but more importantly see if that mysterious stripper had texted him yet. The only new message he had was from Lannes. He sighed, got dressed, and went down stairs.

Duroc was greeted with the familiar sound of sizzling eggs as he arrived in the kitchen. His roommate Larrey was making breakfast again.

"Finally, you're awake!" Larrey exclamed, when Duroc took his typical seat at the table.

"Aren't you supposed to be at a lecture right now?" Duoc asked, knowing Larrey was studying to become a surgeon. 

"The professor had a family me emergency," Larrey began as he started to plate the eggs, "lucky for you, it means I can tend to your post-party needs. I'm guessing my hangover kit isn't necessary?" Larrey questiponed as he gave Duroc his food.

"Nope. I didn't drink a thing. You know how risky it is to drink at a college party," Duroc took a bite from his eggs; the yolks were cooked perfectly. He smiled, "these eggs are absolutely delicious! Thank you Larrey!"

"It's no problem," Larrey replied, "did you meet anyone interesting yesterday?"

"Well yeah, but it wasn't at the party," he said through mouthfulls of egg, "I met a stripper on the way home."

"What was she like?" 

"Well, for one he was a man," Duroc muttered, which was pursued by an awkward pause.

"Why, that certainly is interesting," Larrey responded, "I guess going to that party wasn't totally useless after all!"

"Yeah," said Duroc, "I guess,"

About 30 minutes later, Duroc finished his breakfast and headed to work. He was an employee at an art store called Blick. While it wasn't ideal, it was an interesting job, and was much better than working at a Burger King or McDonald's. Today it was Duroc's turn to work at the checkout.

A young man, maybe of the age of 19, approached the counter with several oilpaints, pencils, sketchbooks, and brushes that he wished to purchase. Duroc scanned all these items, and put them to the side before bagging them.

"That'll be 79.56$. But if you sign up with our rewards card, you could save a ton of money." Said Duroc.

"That sounds great! Will it count for this purchase?" Asked the customer.

"Yeah! I'll sign you up right now," Duroc typed into the computer that sat next to the register, "What's your first name?"

"Antoine,"

"And your last name?"

"Gros,"

Duroc asked Antoine a few more questions, printed out his gift card, and gave him his new price.

"Thank you for shopping at Blick!" Said Duroc as Antoine left with his new suppliessupplies. Many similar interactions happened throughout the work day, and then it was time to go home. 

At eight o'clock pm, Duroc checked his phone once more. There was a new message!

Hey, it's Napoleon, it began, I just woke up. How are you?

Duroc chuckled. Napoleon's sleep schedual must've been different due to his weird work hours. Duroc decided not to text him back until he got home. He couldn't wait to tell Larrey about this.


	4. Chapter 4

"I still don't understand why you want me to go again," Robespierre complained from the backseat of the mini van. His friends Camille and Georges were driving him to some weird gay stripclub. Of course, this was the second trip that Maximillien attended.

Camille Desmoulins, who was riding shotgun turned his head to face Robespierre, "It can't be that bad, Max," Camille replied, "plus, we gotta show some support for Danton's boyfriend." 

"Shut up, Camille," Georges Danton mumbled, while rolling his eyes. 

"Wait, Jean's a stripper now? Or did you break up with him?" Robespierre asked. All this time he thought that Jean Paul Marat was a doctor with a skin problem. At least that was what he'd been told. 

"For the last time, Jean and I are not dating!" Danton grumbled irritatedly, "And no, he's not a stripper. He's a janitor and nurse,"

"You'd be surprised at how many injuries they get there," Camille added, "One time, Marat told me this guy G.Morris got his genitals impaled while pole dancing. And get this- it's cause he forgot to take a whale bone out of his pocket. Can you believe that? A whale bone!" 

"Jesus Christ," muttered Maxime. He hoped we wouldn't have to see any injuries of that sort tonight. 

"We're here!" Announced Danton. The three boys jumped out of the car, and headed to the entance of the club. They were the only ones in the parking lot today. 

Robespierre cautiously followed Danton and Camille, trying his best not to interact with anyone. The strip club was like an embodiment of all the things he hates. For example, everything was sexualised. This made Maxime uncomfortable because he was asexual and sex repulsed. Luckily it wasn't close to as crowded as it was last time, so he hated it a bit less.

"Hey, we can get front seats!" Exclaimed Camille, childishly running over to the front of the stage, "Come on guys!" 

Georges and Max headed over to the seats Camille saved them, and sat down. It was quite awkward since nothing was going on yet, so Georges took out his money and began to count. Camille followed, and took a slightly smaller stack out of his hoodie pocket. 

"Were we supposed to bring cash?" Maximilien asked, embarrassed that he didn't bring any money. 

"Yeah, it's to tip the dancers," said Danton. Georges split his money in half, and handed a portion to Robespierre, "take it," 

Maximillen reluctantly accepted the money Danton gave to him, "Thank you, Georges," he replied. 

A few moments later, a man in a French flag sequin leotard walked on to stage. He was taller than everyone at Maxine's table, and had really great eyebrows. 

"Attention citizens," the leotard man began, "Je mapple Lady Liberté! But you can call me Lafayette." 

Maximillien leaned over to Danton and whispered, "I like his outfit. How do I tip him?" 

Danton giggled, "This is just the introduction to the preformances," he explained, "you don't tip the strippers until they're dancing and stripping,"

"But how do I do it when the time is right?" Maximilien asked.

"I'll tell you then," said Danton.


End file.
